Complaints and Apologies
by DancingKirby
Summary: A customer calls Blackbird Delivery Service, makes an embarrassing mistake, and learns to not always trust the media.


A/N: Here it is, my second 5D's fic and the first with Crow! This is sort of a test to see if I got everyone's character down. I chose to write about the whole Satellite-prejudice issue because after the first season it really seemed to be glossed over in the show.

* * *

Mrs. Natsuki Yamamoto felt some apprehension as she dialed the number listed in the phone book. Normally she wouldn't have resorted to this, but she had thought about it for a long time and decided it was for the best.

She hoped that there wouldn't be some convoluted and computerized system to work through. Fortunately, the phone was answered after three rings by a human.

"Hello?" said a deep male voice.

"Um...yes, is this Blackbird Delivery Service?" inquired Mrs. Yamamoto.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. And then: "That idiot! I can't believe he used _our_ phone number! What, does he think I'm his _secretary_?"

Mrs. Yamamoto was not sure how to respond to this. Finally, the person on the other end of the line seemed to remember that she could hear what he was saying.

"Okay, yeah, hold on a minute." he requested. He then proceeded to yell, "OI! CROW! GET THE DAMN PHONE!" It was so loud that Mrs. Yamamoto almost dropped the receiver.

There followed a brief interval of stomping noises, an argument, and what sounded suspiciously like punches being thrown. Finally, a different and very out-of breath person picked up the phone.

"Sorry about that. You wanted to talk to me?"

Mrs. Yamamoto, whose ears were still ringing, answered bemusedly, "I think so. This _is _the number for Blackbird Delivery Service, right?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And you're the manager?"

"Yep."

Mrs. Yamamoto took a deep breath.

"All right, then. First of all. I'd like to say I'm very pleased with your reliability. It seems like you're the only people who can get my newspaper here on time."

"Well, I try my best, so thanks," said the manager. He sounded slightly surprised, as if he wasn't used to people complimenting him.

Mrs. Yamamoto rushed on before she lost her nerve, "But there is one issue I wanted to talk to you about..."

The manager was quiet for a few seconds, then finally responded, "What's the problem?"

"Well...it's about the delivery boy."

"What about him?"

"He...he has criminal markers all over his face! You've probably seen what they say in the newspapers...I just gave my daughters permission to walk to the bus stop by themselves. It makes me feel a bit uncomfortable that someone like _that_ is in the neighborhood at the same time, you know?"

There was yet another pause. This one was so long, Mrs. Yamamoto started to worry that the call had gotten dropped. Finally, though, the manager said slowly, "You really don't have to worry about that, ma'am."

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing, but if you can find someone else to do that route, I would be so thankful!"

"What's your address?" he asked.

Mrs. Yamamoto told him.

"I'll take care of it."

"You will? Oh, thank you so much!"

After they said their goodbyes, Mrs. Yamamoto hung up the phone feeling relieved. She was worried that the manager would take offense at the implication that he hired unsavory people, but he'd been surprisingly reasonable. Apparently there were still decent people out there after all! With that thought, she skipped off to the kitchen to make an afternoon snack for her daughters.

* * *

The next morning started off as usual. Mr. Yamamoto headed off to catch the subway to work, and the kids got ready for school. The two girls were just walking out the door when they stopped short.

"Mommy, look at the paper boy!" shrieked Akane. Then both of the girls started laughing.

Just what was going on? Was this the new guy that the manager had promised? Mrs. Yamamoto leaned over her daughters' heads for a better look.

It was the same guy as before, but there was one big difference. Now he was wearing a large gorilla mask over his helmet. It completely obscured his face...and by extension, his markers.

He threw the newspaper on the porch and waved at the girls as he rode away on his D-Wheel. They waved gleefully back. Well, they might find this funny, but Mrs. Yamamoto did not.

When her daughters finally stopped laughing enough to walk to the bus stop, Mrs. Yamamoto sighed and poured another cup of coffee for herself. She wished it could be something stronger, but it was too early in the day for that.

Was this someone's idea of a joke? Well, obviously it was, but Mrs. Yamamoto wondered what had gone wrong. Had the paper boy not liked being replaced and decided to pull a prank? Or was the manager himself in on this? She wanted to call right now, but she figured that the manager was still asleep. So she went about her morning chores as best she could.

Finally, at about eleven in the morning, Mrs. Yamamoto decided it was a safe time to call.

This time, the phone was picked up after only one ring. The man with the deep voice greeted her with, "Is this about the ramen shipment? Is it here yet?"

What did ramen have to do with anything...?

"Uh...no. This is Yamamoto Natsuki. I called yesterday about..."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you," the guy interrupted. This time, Mrs. Yamamoto was prepared. She held the phone several inches away from her face as the person on the other end shouted at the top of his lungs, "IT'S YOUR GIRLFRIEND, CROW!"

There were footsteps in the background once more, and a quite clear "Goddammit, Jack, I swear...!"

As soon as he was on the line, Mrs. Yamamoto said to him, "I think that there's been a misunderstanding."

"I'll say," replied the manager sardonically.

"Wait...you already know about this?"

There was a sigh, and then, "No offense, but you're kinda slow. Wasn't that enough of a hint?"

What was he talking about? A hint at what? That wouldn't make any sense unless...Mrs. Yamamoto felt like a lead weight had fallen into her stomach as she realized what a terrible mistake she had made.

"Oh no..." she moaned out loud.

"Look, lady," continued the manager/paper boy, "I couldn't care less what you think about my markers, but I would slit my own throat before I would ever hurt a child. You hear me? Don't worry...you can get your newspaper from somewhere else if I hurt your _feelings_."

He then hung up the phone. Mrs. Yamamoto no longer cared about what time it was as she got a glass of sake. She downed it in two gulps and sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands.

How could she have been so utterly stupid? If this guy hadn't had a sense of humor, she might have put her children in even _more_ danger. But that wasn't really the point, was it? No, the fact remained that she had gravely insulted a boy who couldn't have been that much older than her own girls.

She had just assumed that the delivery service had multiple workers. Why hadn't she figured it out when the phone number had obviously been for someone's home?

And the real question...what was she going to do now? She thought about calling back to apologize, but that might not go over too well. Maybe she'd give it a few days, and see if she got any ideas.

* * *

Mrs. Yamamoto checked the slip of paper with the address on it. Yes...this was the right place. A week had passed, and she hadn't seen a trace of the paper boy, so she'd decided to pay a visit. She had been careful not to come empty-handed either. She shifted a large box into one arm so she could ring the doorbell.

The door was opened by a boy with dark hair and a grease smudge on his face. Even though the paper-delivery guy had always worn a helmet, Mrs. Yamamoto was fairly sure that this was not him. Could this be the annoying ramen-obsessed one? She'd expected him to be taller than that.

"Yes? Do you need something?" asked the boy. No, he had a different voice than Ramen Guy. Plus, he seemed more polite. Just how many people were living in this house?

Mrs. Yamamoto bowed as best she could with her big box, then said, "Hello, my name is Yamamoto Natsuki. I would like to speak to your friend if he'll let me."

The boy bowed back and answered, "I'm Fudo Yusei. We were wondering if you'd show up here. Please come in."

She noted that he, too, had a marker, but this time she was careful to not say anything. But still...she felt odd going into the house of convicted criminals.

"Oh no, I don't want to trouble you! I'll wait outside," she finally managed to say. She had begun to get a nagging feeling that she had seen this young man somewhere before...but _where_?

Yusei nodded and went back into the house, leaving the door ajar. A couple of minutes later, the paper boy walked up to the door. He leaned against the door frame as they stared at each other.

Neither of them was sure how to break the silence. Finally, Mrs. Yamamoto handed over the box and said lamely, "I brought over some onigiri. I made it myself."

She had figured that with boys that age, gifts of food were always a safe bet. Sure enough, he couldn't help smiling a bit as he took the box from her.

"Well, I could never pass up free food!" he said brightly. Mrs. Yamamoto chuckled.

Then, she asked, "It's 'Crow', isn't it?" If she wanted to apologize properly, she would have to remember that he had a name just like everyone else did.

The paper boy-Crow-nodded.

"Ahem...well then, Crow, I am very sorry for jumping to conclusions about you. The newspapers just keep printing all these horrible things and...I guess old habits die hard."

Crow said nothing, but gazed at her warily.

"Ya know", he said at length, "You shouldn't believe all that shi...er, stuff that the paper says. Yeah, I was in jail a few times, but it wasn't for nothing violent. Yeah, there were some awful people in Satellite, but most of us were just tryin' to get by."

Mrs. Yamamoto wished that she could have come up with a suitably profound reply, but all she could manage was, "Well, I'll try to keep that in mind." She knew that this one meeting would not erase all of her natural prejudice, but at least she had been made aware of it.

Crow shuffled his feet and added, "I...hope you found another place to get that newspaper."

"Oh, don't worry, Crow-san. I bought it at a shop."

"I can start doing your house again, if that's okay."

"Yes...that would be wonderful."

That being done, Mrs. Yamamoto said goodbye and turned to leave, only to stare in shock at who was coming up the sidewalk.

"I'm back!" called out a very familiar loud voice. It turned out that Ramen Guy was none other than _Jack Atlas._ She'd recognize that face anywhere...her daughters had no less than six posters of him in their room.

And that explained where she'd seen that other boy, too. She well remembered spending hours convincing the kids that the world was _not_ going to end because Jack Atlas lost to some new guy.

"You...you _know_ each other?" she squeaked out.

"Sometimes I wish I didn't," muttered Crow as Jack shoved past him to get in the house. "And you better not have been at that coffee place all day, Jack!" he added.

Mrs. Yamamoto was slightly disappointed that she hadn't gotten the chance to ask for his autograph, but it was getting late. Thankfully, her daughters were spending the afternoon at a friend's house, but she'd still have to get home soon to start dinner.

The world was a very strange place, she mused to herself as she walked to the subway station.

THE END


End file.
